


Peaches and Cream

by pixieyutoda



Category: Pentagon (Korea Band)
Genre: #Awkward Wooseok, #Background Yuki, #Falling in love, #His hair changes depending on his mood, #Magic Bonds, #Maknae line are roommates, #Metamorphmagus Wooseok, #StarBoy!Yanan, #Tol boys in love, #Witch Wooseok can speak to animals, #Witch!Wooseok, #Witch!Yanan, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-22
Updated: 2018-09-22
Packaged: 2019-07-15 09:11:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16060010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pixieyutoda/pseuds/pixieyutoda
Summary: he falls in love with this moment, yanan asleep on his shoulder, breath steady, calm. and he knows, he just knows his hair is slowly turning a peachy color. somewhere in between a pink and an orange. but that’s how he feels.like a sunrise, like a ripe peach, like a blooming flower.it’s kind of terrifying.✧･ﾟin which wooseok thinks yanan is really pretty and their magics lock them together with invisible handcuffs ✧･ﾟ





	Peaches and Cream

_**“with stardust and sunsets, rainy nights, cloudy days, and love, undeniable ardent love; it is hard not to believe in magic.”** _

 

the first thing wooseok notices are the freckles decorating a small button nose and cheeks flushed pink. tons of tiny stars. mini constellations glowing upon the blond boy’s face as he fidgets, mouth pulled in a small frown. 

 

the second thing he notices are the frogs covering half of the staircase. a dozen of them, loud like an alarm that is asking to be snoozed. before that moment wooseok had never realized how much sound frogs actually make. 

 

‘star boy’ looks flustered, blush spreading further, stars twinkling brighter. 

 

“mine!” he can hear them ribbit, repeating over and over, a rigorous chant. 

 

surprisingly this isn’t the weirdest thing wooseok has witnessed on these steps.

 

(why people would choose to fuck in a stairwell in an apartment building where there were y’know,  _ rooms _ , was beyond him but eh, to each his own). 

 

not to mention the guy who plays piano in the mornings, on a tiny stool, because the ‘acoustics are better’. or the shady guy who asks if he can read wooseok’s fortune and tries to charge him five dollars afterwards. and why would he get his palms read by a rando who smells like cigars and cheap beer when hyunggu has a crystal ball? 

 

“you seem to have quite the fan club.” wooseok bashfully looks down after speaking, because star boy’s eyes increase in size, surprised, saturn swirling in them. it’s an intimidatingly intimate gaze. too genuine. 

 

“i’m sick.” the blond sniffles and wooseok becomes hyper aware, taking in how sleepy his eyes are, droopy almost, cloudy. “i sneezed and this happened.” 

 

“i think they like you,” wooseok says softly, almost like an offering, “if that makes you feel any better.”

 

“it does actually.” he smiles, face scrunching as he sneezes again, a toucan now seated on his shoulder ruffling its feathers. the frogs all fade away, just as loud, louder even as they disappear. 

 

“...pretty.” wooseok breathes, dazed, leaning in slightly to get a closer look. her beak is a bright bell pepper orange and it seems as though she smiles.  

 

“thank you!” the bird chirps back, preening confidently. 

 

“polite too.” wooseok’s grin feels a little cheesy, catching the other boy’s puzzled expression. 

 

“you can understand them?” it’s isn’t said with shock but with curiosity and the stars on the tall boy’s cheeks flicker bright blue.

 

wooseok nods, the toucan croaking, a small click of its beak. “she said she wants to know your name.” he translates.

 

“yanan.” his voice is soft like a feather, light, floating almost. like letting a balloon go and watching it rise and rise until the sky takes it away. wooseok hears fluffy clouds and pink cotton candy in yanan’s tone, all violin and wind chimes. 

 

they part a little awkwardly with silent byes and small nods, one going up, the other down. 

 

wooseok bites his lip as he trudges his way up to the 5th floor, to hold back the grin that’s spreading on his face. it’s too wide to be considered normal, wooseok’s resting face is usually something like “i hate my life don’t ever talk to me”. he wouldn’t want to petrify any of his neighbors if they saw him expressing real, human emotions. 

 

the toucan didn’t care about yanan, or wooseok for that matter,  she had actually just been repeating him, calling herself pretty in a gentle squeak. he’s happy she knows. 

 

_ yanan,  _ he hums it under his breath and doesn’t feel bad for lying when the other boy’s name in his mouth tastes so sweet. 

 

starboy fit, but yanan lingered on his tongue that night as he fell asleep, a hint of mint, iced coffee and barberry essence. 

 

________

 

wooseok works the afternoon shift at a rescue shelter called ‘the angel house’ and sometimes it breaks his heart. the dogs and cats are cute, incredibly so, and he wants to take them all home, weak for anything with ears and a tail. being able to talk to them is just a plus and it makes his job a whole lot easier. 

 

being able to hear what they have to say, what they’ve been through hurts. too many sad stories of kittens being put out in the rain, dogs forced to fight, humans taking advantage and not caring enough. but knowing that some of them may never find loving homes hurts just a tad bit more. 

 

it sinks down into his bones when he walks past an older dog, fur matted, eyes void of hope. too many people come in screaming for puppies, cooing over whatever little ones they’re sheltering. they all deserve so much better, he tells himself, cleaning a cage so fiercely he bangs his hand against the edge, curses into the empty room. 

 

there’s an orange cat named buttercup, she’s two years old and was rescued from a house fire. she saved herself by crawling out of a window onto the bedroom’s balcony when it got too hot. the firefighters were able to get her down before the whole building was aflame, her owners however weren’t as lucky. 

 

she’s skittish, scared of bright lights and loud noises, strangers especially. when they first got her she bit all of his coworkers during feeding times and hissed at anyone who came too close to her cage.

 

but she isn’t scared of wooseok. 

 

she rubs her nose against his hand and licks his palm gently everytime he comes to refill her bowls, a soft meow in greeting, a hello. 

 

wooseok wants to take her home. wooseok’s  _ gonna  _ take her home.

 

someday. 

________

 

“are you seeing someone?” hyunggu asks bluntly during dinner that evening, scooping chicken into his mouth at rapid speeds. beside him yuto chokes a little bit around an egg roll, cheeks full like a hamster. 

“no!” wooseok denies, because he isn’t. loudly, because he would tell his friends the second after anyone had the chance to call dibs on him. they know that. 

wooseok has never dated before, something that doesn’t really bother him. his friends have mastered the art of how not to make him a feel like a constant third wheel. but they’re so so in love, that sticky, gooey love; that it’s impossible not to feel a deep lingering want for something just as great. something real, tangible. 

wooseok likes the idea of love and dating. he knows it isn’t easy, he can hear yuto and hyunggu fighting every once in a while from their room, trying to keep it down for his sake. they don’t always agree on everything and hyunggu’s too stubborn, yuto too non confrontational to fix things. it goes on for a few days at the most, maybe a silent treatment, an awkward air around them. but they make it work, they crawl into bed and talk about things until they fall asleep tangled in each other. 

they fit like puzzle pieces and wooseok wants to love someone like that. he wants to love someone like the moon loves the sun. he knows someday he will. 

someday.

“your hair has been pink all day.” yuto chimes in, no longer choking, mouth still full of food. “pale pink. not the neon pink punk shit that appears when you get too drunk and start hitting on people then running away. the lovey dovey pink.” 

“oh, i didn’t notice.” wooseok sort of means it, shrugs, thinking  _ red, red, red. _ and while he can’t physically feel the change, he knows it’s there, of course it is. a faint tingle buzzes under his fingertips. 

“is this better?” he points to the strawberry colored strands, running his fingers through. 

“you could make your hair rainbow and it’d look good.” hyunggu rolls his eyes, standing to refill his wine glass, heaving out a dramatic sigh. “but fine, don’t tell me.” 

wooseok doesn’t quite know how to explain that his hair has been pink since he woke up, a star covered boy dancing through his dreams, painting them mauve and all lit up like fireworks. they fizzle out slowly, the longest light show wooseok’s ever seen. 

________

buttercup thinks wooseok is funny when he’s cleaning up at night, dancing to whatever’s playing on the radio, singing off-key. she calls him ‘her human’ and meows with delight when wooseok tells her he applied to adopt her. 

his hair flashes orange. buttercup meows louder. 

________

wooseok runs into yanan again in the elevator that night. it’s late, almost ten p.m. and the other man looks exhausted, throwing his bag onto the floor next to wooseok like he can’t be bothered to carry it any longer. he presses the #6 and they both watch it light up. 

“you’re the guy who can talk to animals.” yanan says sleepily, words slurring together and it’s irritatingly adorable. wooseok wants to throw up. 

“yup.” he nods instead with an awkward chuckle, “m’ name’s wooseok.” 

“yanan.” 

wooseok bites his tongue to avoid saying ‘i know’, remembering the blond’s first ‘introduction’ hadn’t actually been for him but for a pretty little toucan. he also doesn’t want yanan to think he’s some kind of creep. nobody wants to be stuck in an elevator with a creep. 

he regrets that thought immediately when the elevator jerks to a halt before they can even make it to the fourth floor. 

“what the fuck…” leaves his mouth in a breathless rush, eyes wide and panicked because the doors don’t open. thirty seconds passes by and they still remain closed, like they’re glued shut. the elevator doesn’t make a sound, not even the smallest  _ ding! _ he looks over and yanan seems just as shocked as he is before slumping his tall body to the ground. 

it’s yanan’s way of giving up, wooseok realizes, as the man on the floor yawns, looking so tired it makes wooseok want to take a nap. 

he pushes the emergency button and slides down onto the floor next to him, because that’s really all he can do. it’s silent for a minute, and then that turns into three which turns into five and wooseok doesn’t mind. he’s bad at small talk anyway, never knows quite what to say, always thinks of something witty after the conversation’s over and has been for hours. 

he feels something plop onto his shoulder and forces himself not to jump, peeking at a head of blond hair out of the corner of his eye. yanan is asleep, mouth fixed in a little pout, his features finally relaxed. so wooseok stays still, extremely so, to avoid waking him up. 

he figures if yanan knew what he was doing he’d jerk up immediately, blushing, moving, creating distance between them. and it’s selfish but he wants to cherish the moment a little bit longer.  

wooseok is a lovable person. he’s cuddly and warm and gives his friends so much affection that they have to shove him off, pretending they don’t like it. he gets clingy at times and just wants someone to sing to him and play with his ears until he falls asleep. 

wooseok falls in love with the little things. a tv show with a really cheesy plot, a new ice cream flavor that’s just been released, shoes that light up at the bottom because they make him feel like a kid again.

he falls in love with moments too. 

sitting on the roof with yuto and hyunggu by his side, drinking beer and eating chicken. walking around at three a.m. when it’s just him and the moon, lo-fi playing through his headphones. watching the sunset at a beach, the sun dipping slowly into the water until it’s gone. 

he falls in love with this moment, yanan asleep on his shoulder, breath steady, calm. and he knows, he just knows his hair is slowly turning a peachy color. somewhere in between a pink and an orange. but that’s how he feels.

like a sunrise, like a ripe peach, like a blooming flower. 

it’s kind of terrifying.   

________

 

the grocery store always seems to be bustling with people whenever wooseok goes shopping. it’s only slightly annoying when people ram their carts into his hips and cut him off when he’s trying to turn into the freezer aisle. wooseok has too much patience, an abundant amount, so he lets the little things go. 

he’s looking for blood oranges, ripe ones when he sees yanan, big hands holding pretty little peaches. he’s wearing a yellow sweater, positively golden, shining like the sun under the fluorescent lights. 

they lock eyes and it’s like the world around them stops, going black and white like an old mafia film. the color snaps back into their universe in a burst, a splash of paint against a blank canvas. and it’s like he can’t look away, the magic in his body swirling in the pit of his stomach like a whirlpool. there’s a harsh pull, his body and magic playing tug of war, wanting to be closer to yanan and further away at the same time. 

wooseok’s still stuck standing there and all he can smell is citrus. 

his feet move without his permission, dragging him to the blond’s side, staring at his shoes because yanan’s eyes are so honest. he’s scared of what they might say. 

“your magic feels blue.” his voice is just as soft as the first and second time, words light and steady. “not a sad blue, but like a summer sky, hopeful, brimming with possibilities.” 

“sorry.” is the only thing wooseok can manage. “i’m not doing this on purpose.” 

“it’s okay.” yanan jerks his head in a ‘follow me’ motion, “i’m kind of flattered honestly.” 

“...”

“your magic latched onto me and refuses to let go.” he giggles, nose scrunching with it, “it’s cute and all but i gotta get laundry detergent and fast before my ice cream melts.” 

wooseok forgets how to breathe. he counts up to 100 over and over again taking deep breaths as he stares at yanan’s back, the other busy looking at discount prices. 

his magic having a vice grip on yanan can only mean a few things. one being that if he doesn’t want to be drained to the point of almost dying, he has to stick to yanan’s side. magic bonds are scary and don’t happen often. when your magic takes control you have to do what it tells you or it retaliates and there are no exceptions. 

his magic is screaming  _ yanan, yanan, yanan. _ he has to listen. 

the second thing being that yanan’s magic is latching back, hooking on equally as tight. magic bonds are rare because it takes two people’s magic to create one bond, sort of like a contract that both parties have to sign. even if wooseok’s magic had reached out, yanan’s could have felt the pull and moved on. but it didn’t. it invited the bond instead. 

he watches the blond place detergent in his cart, following him to the checkout line like a little baby duck. blood oranges, groceries, responsibilities all forgotten. 

yanan seems too casual about the fact that they’re now stuck together, invisible shackles donning their wrists, looking at chocolate as they move up in line. his nonchalance makes wooseok want to freak out more, makes him want to scream ‘hey what the fuck are we going to do??’ at the top of his lungs and potentially scar some children. 

but he doesn’t. he grabs a twix and places it on the conveyor belt. yanan blinks, adds another one. 

yanan’s magic feels green, like open clearings full of wildflowers, three leaf clovers, dragon scales and lily pads. 

wooseok feels lucky. 

________

“this is the ‘rainbow den,’” yanan gestures to his room, eyes light up with pride, “it’s kind of like my happy place.” 

wooseok’s mouth is open in awe, staring up and up at the mirror on the ceiling, waving a bit at his own reflection. there are big plants by the window, shelves full of heavy books and jars full of gems. huge crystals don yanan’s dresser casting rainbows across the white walls and it’s so beautiful the only sound that leaves him is an excited peep. 

“pretty cool huh?” 

“it’s amazing,” he breathes, stepping closer to the bookshelf, tentatively running his fingers over the thick tomes. “you’re a healer?” 

“i’m learning.” yanan says sheepishly, stars upon his cheeks blinking bright, “my coven is small but they all work so hard, they drain themselves so easily. i want to learn so i can help them when they need it.” 

wooseok wants to say so many things. like  _ you’re not only beautiful but you’re so selfless and kind, how can a human like you exist, _ but he doesn’t. he sits next to yanan when he pats the spot on the bed closest to him, taking the twix the older man offers.  

“i’m sorry that you’re stuck with me.” he whispers, as the chocolate melts on his tongue, licking caramel from his lips. 

“i’ve had worse company.” yanan laughs, a twinkling sparkling sound, bumping their shoulders together playfully. “jun invited an elf over here once, hands down the most conceited person i’ve ever met in my life.” 

they giggle until it goes silent again. 

“are you hungry?” the blond stands abruptly, “i’m such a horrible host! i didn’t even offer you water or anything.” 

“i’m oka-” his stomach cuts in, growling lowly in disagreement, the ultimate betrayal. 

yanan grips his hand and hauls him up, pulling him out of the room and to the kitchen without a word. his hands are pale and warm and wooseok knows his own are probably sweating bullets at the simple touch. yanan doesn’t let go. his magic swirls faster, buzzing under his skin, so loud the birds chirping outside can probably hear it. 

when they part it’s so yanan can open the fridge, pulling out a haul of ingredients, humming under his breath as he does so. “when was the last time you had a home cooked meal?” 

wooseok thinks back to the past few weeks of eating pizza pockets and sweet and sour chicken on his living room couch. “i don’t remember actually.”

yanan gasps in horror, already setting a pot on the stove, pouring water in to boil. “i’m making you dandan noodles and you’re gonna eat every bite, understood?” 

“understood!” 

while they eat yanan tells wooseok that he’s normally quite shy, incredibly so around new people, the type to hide his face and blush scarlet red at any attention. it’s hard to believe with the older man cracking silly jokes during dinner and asking him questions about his hobbies, likes and dislikes, genuinely interested. wooseok doesn’t want to read too much into it but he thinks it might be yanan’s way of making him feel more comfortable. his magic hums happily, the swirl in his stomach slowing into a gentle wave. 

“why do you think your magic chose me?” yanan asks as they slurp up the last of their noodles, soft saturn eyes alight with curiosity. wooseok can’t help but feel all aflutter when he tilts his head like a confused puppy. 

“i don’t know.” wooseok frowns, because even he doesn’t know the answer to that question. “it just likes you i guess.”

“we both know that’s not how magic bonds work.” yanan snorts, relaxes back into his chair with a pat to his full belly. “listen to your magic, what does it say?” 

so wooseok listens, asking without words, why, why, why yanan? the blond’s magic is curled around his own, purring like a satisfied cat. all of a sudden it’s too much and too little all at once. 

he feels it in his chest, rattling around in his ribcage and the answer is so simple. 

_ to love _ . 

his magic wants yanan to be his sun, his puzzle piece, his buttercup, his sunflower in a field of weeds.

he doesn’t say that though. he thanks yanan for the meal instead and insists on cleaning the dishes, gathering them all up before the other can blink. 

he turns the water in the sink on until it’s scalding hot and sticks his hands under. 

________

yanan lets wooseok sleep on his couch because there’s really nowhere else he can go while their magics are wrapped around each other like boa constrictors. he gives him a change of clothes, and even turns on cartoons for the younger, knowing sometimes it’s hard to sleep in new surroundings. 

wooseok can hear yanan brushing his teeth in the bathroom, singing some jazz song around the toothbrush and closes his eyes tight. he stays still for a long time, loses track of how long but the only thing he can hear are animated voices coming from the tv and assumes yanan must be asleep already. 

he almost falls off of the couch in surprise when he hears that soft voice call his name from the doorway, peeking through his now purple strands. yanan’s wearing an oversized t-shirt with a wide neck that exposes the pale skin of his collarbones and boxers, cute ones covered in hearts. wooseok tries to stop staring.  _ he can’t.  _

“u-um.” yanan starts, fumbling for words, hands twisted in the fabric of his shirt. “do you wanna sleep with me? i mean, in my room, not like,” he does some weird hand motion, clapping his palms together and it makes wooseok giggle. “i-i just thought you’d be more comfortable.” 

wooseok stands and lets yanan take his hand for the second time that night, leading him into the rainbow den. the blond’s sheets are cozy, a heating charm placed upon them and he sinks into the fluffy comforter with a groan. yanan chuckles, sliding into the space next to him and it’s nowhere as awkward as he thought it would be. 

the bed is big enough that they don’t have to make contact if they don’t want to but yanan slides just that bit closer and wooseok can smell the mint on his breath, a hint of lavender detergent. 

they both turn their heads at the same time, so much to say, not enough time. yanan’s cheeks puff up when he smiles in surprise and wooseok hand reaches out tentatively brushing the stars shining there. yanan leans into the touch like a needy cat, letting wooseok’s large hand cup his face. 

wooseok doesn’t really know what’s happening but he thinks that’s what love is. love is lots of little moments that don’t make sense, seeing someone smile and getting butterflies not only in your stomach but all over. love is falling deeper into someone so fast you can’t pull yourself out. love is realizing it’s much too late for that. 

his magic hums a soft song, still laced with yanan’s like it would rather be here than anywhere else. wooseok feels that tenfold. 

“what does pink mean?” yanan ponders in a soft whisper, running his fingers through wooseok’s too long hair, making him shiver. 

wooseok doesn’t answer, he doesn’t think he can describe it in words. words aren’t enough. 

he tilts his head up and gently presses their mouths together, a small kiss, and then another one, deeper this time. 

he doesn’t need words. 

this. this moment is enough. 

________

yanan murmurs all kinds of sweet nothings into his skin. peppers kisses onto his bare shoulders as they cuddle, suckles the soft skin. 

“i wish we could sleep like this every night.” he hums, nuzzling his nose into wooseok’s pink hair.

_ why can’t we? _ he wants to ask but doesn’t have the courage to do so. he just lets himself be held, it’s the warmest he’s felt in a long time. 

they kiss again and again until their lips are puffy and red, yanan runs his hands through his cotton candy hair, tugs it until he whines. 

at some point their magics settle down and untwine. they don’t notice. 

________

 

wooseok wakes up in a panic, tumbling off of the bed in his haste to pull his clothes and shoes on. he checks the bedside clock, it reads 9:10, which means he only has twenty minutes to get to work. yanan is still sleeping deeply, mouth open, curled in a ball and it’s so so adorable but wooseok has no time to sit and watch. 

he finds a strip of paper and a glittery blue pen, scribbles a note and his number onto it, a little heart added onto his signature. he rushes out and makes it to work ten minutes late but his coworker’s tardy by thirty, so he gets away with it. 

during his lunch break he sits on the floor between the cages and eats a sandwich he ordered from the deli across the street. if he sneaks a little piece of turkey into buttercup’s cage, well, that’s a secret between them. 

his coworker pops her head into the room, looking downtrodden, and a sinking feeling settles in his chest before she can even open her mouth. 

“i don’t think you’ll be able to take buttercup home.” she whispers sadly, like it’s breaking her heart too. 

he just nods, doesn’t know what to say, trying to chew the rest of the food in his mouth but it tastes bad suddenly. he can’t finish it. 

when he leaves work it’s dinner time and he decides to spoil himself, thinking maybe a big burger and fries will fix his sadness. it’s worked before. he stops at a greasy fast food restaurant, orders a combo #4 and checks his phone while he waits for it to be ready. there’s only one message from hyunggu, lots of sad emojis at the news that buttercup won’t be joining their little family. but nothing from yanan. 

it stings like pricking your finger on a cactus, like pouring alcohol into a tiny paper cut. he shakes it off when his name is called, grabbing the paper bag unnecessarily rough, almost snatching. he leaves shortly after, doesn’t apologize. 

another day goes by and then another and wooseok doesn’t run into yanan on the staircase or in the elevator. he wants to believe that the blond isn’t ignoring him on purpose but the little pessimistic voices in his head aren’t buying it. 

it hurts more knowing yanan doesn’t have a reason to call him. so they spent a night together, whatever, but that choice was out of their hands. they aren’t together, wooseok isn’t even sure if he can call them friends. he knows yanan likes the color periwinkle, that he wants to be a healer, and drives a silver nissan. 

wooseok isn’t sure if that’s enough. if he’s enough. 

it skips around in his head as he walks home from work, he tries to distract himself but can’t help coming back to it. maybe yanan just doesn’t want him, wooseok thinks, kicking an empty beer can on the sidewalk so hard it goes flying. 

yuto and hyunggu are home when he walks through the door and the apartment smells good like sauteed meat and tomato sauce. hyunggu’s standing at the stove, stirring something, yuto at his back, arms around his waist. 

normally such a sight would make wooseok smile and he’d hop over to wrap his arms around them both, squeezing too tight. it makes him sigh instead, a bitter feeling taking over him and he can’t push it down. 

“welcome home, seok!” hyunggu coos, turning to smile brightly at him, “dinner will be done in five if you’re hungry.” 

“hyunggu’s been looking at recipes on pinterest all day and got a little carried away.” yuto snorts, kissing his boyfriend’s cheek before letting go, “you gotta eat at least a plate of this or we’ll have leftovers for weeks.” 

“no thank you,” wooseok mumbles, taking his shoes off at the door, dropping his bag beside them. “i just wanna go to sleep.” 

yuto frowns at his tone, squinting like he’s trying to figure something out. “your hair’s blue.” 

“so?” wooseok retorts back, an edge to his voice, watches his best friend flinch back in surprise. 

“your hair only turns blue when you’re feeling real icky.” hyunggu says gently, ignoring the attitude. “wanna talk about it?” 

“it doesn’t matter.” wooseok wants the conversation to end already, feeling frustrated tears filling his eyes, and he’ll be damned if he lets them fall. 

but his friends know him all too well and suddenly there are two pairs of arms wrapped tightly around him, a gentle kiss pressed to the blueberry tuft. just like that he breaks, a heavy sob leaving his chest, vision going blurry with tears. 

“i think i really like someone.” he whispers, wiping his eyes as they lead him to the couch, curling close. 

“and that’s a bad thing?” 

“yup,” he sniffles, “and i don’t really wanna talk about it, let’s eat hyunggu’s pinterest feast and get really drunk please?” 

so they do exactly that. they eat until wooseok can’t take another bite without gagging and wash it all down with whiskey. it tastes disgusting but wooseok kind of feels disgusting so he takes drink after drink until everything’s  okay  not so bad. it’s not the best way to deal with his problems but it’s the easiest he could think of in the moment. 

time passes by quickly after that, hyunggu singing 00’s r&b hits into a cheap karaoke mic he bought on impulse. his voice still sounds phenomenal 6 shots in and it’s annoying having such talented friends. 

wooseok lays on the floor and taps the beat out onto the hardwood, needing to keep his hands and mind busy. it feels sort of mocking when usher’s _ u got it bad _ comes on shuffle and he groans, pulling the strings on his hoodie tight until only ¼ of his face is still showing. 

hyunggu and yuto are already half asleep when the doorbell rings, lazily stuck together on the loveseat. it’s getting late, almost midnight and in his tipsy mind, he needs a weapon, just incase a robber or a jehovah’s witness is at the door (they’re a little terrifying, he’s not gonna lie). the only object readily available is a scooby doo umbrella and wooseok shrugs, swinging it in his right hand. 

he unlocks the door, peeks out slowly and almost closes the door in surprise at the glimpse of blond hair. 

“i brought you twix!” yanan squeaks, holding the plastic bag in between the gap of the door for wooseok to take. 

“it’s 11:50.” wooseok blinks, opening up just a little bit more. yanan looks messy, his hair askew under a pink cap and if wooseok squints he can see a ketchup stain on his black t-shirt. it shouldn’t satisfy him to see yanan not all put-together but it does, reminds him that the other is just as human as him. not so perfect.

 

“i know.” yanan winces, “i wanted to come by earlier but my coworker never showed up and i had to take her shift.” he swings the bag again, a little pout on his face. “i brought chocolate though.” 

wooseok finally takes it because tipsy wooseok loves chocolate and would get angry at sober wooseok in the morning if he didn’t. he grabs his keys off the rack and slips into sandals, not caring that he’s also wearing socks and probably looks like somebody’s grandpa. 

they walk to the elevator in silence, then out through the lobby doors into open air and the streets are even quieter, only passing cars and the average stranger. wooseok breaks the silence by opening one of the chocolate bars, passing yanan the left twix with a small hum. 

“i’m sorry for not calling.” he can hear the sincerity in yanan’s voice and it’s like a rose being de-thorned, all the little things that have been making him sting plucked out. 

“you didn’t have to.” wooseok mumbles into his hoodie, avoiding yanan’s honest eyes. 

“but you wanted me to.” yanan stops, grabs his hand to pull him closer, and his heart starts racing, racing, racing. “i wanted to.” 

“then why didn’t you?” wooseok retorts, glaring at him from under his lashes and okay so maybe there are still a few thorns left. 

“i got scared.” yanan admits, pulling him down and they sit, pressed close on a rickety old park bench. “not scared of you. relationships in general are scary.” 

wooseok snorts, pulling his long legs to his chest until he’s curled up in a ball, it makes him feel safe. “that sounds like an excuse.”

“it’s not.” yanan shakes his head, “i really am sorry. it’s just that relationships are scary, friendships are scary, letting someone i don’t know into my life not knowing how they’re going to change it, is scary.” 

“so you have a control thing-”

“let me speak.” yanan places a hand over his mouth but his eyes glitter with mirth, even more so when wooseok licks his palm. “magic bonds are scariest. and i wasn’t sure if what i felt-, what i feel for you was because of the bond only or if they were my true feelings.” 

yanan leans his head onto his shoulder, “the days that we were apart i thought of you constantly. when i was eating dinner i thought of you, when i was getting ready for bed i thought of you... it was hard to sleep by myself, i just wanted to hold you again. i’m sorry for making you feel like you were in this alone.” 

“there’s still so much we don’t know about each other and i didn’t want to hurt you or myself if we were pursuing something artificial.” he pulls wooseok’s hand into his lap twining their fingers together. “but i guess i already did that huh.”  

“it didn’t hurt.” wooseok squeezes his hand, looking into those eyes and seeing a deep  fondness that makes his lips curl at the ends. “it was kinda like a bee sting.”

 

“oh-”

“i’m allergic.” 

yanan’s face crumbles and wooseok can’t help the chuckles that leave him, deep giggles that don’t stop once they’ve started. “i’m just kidding, i’m not allergic to anything.” 

“you’re not funny.” he sounds sulky.

“i am,” he’s still laughing the tiniest bit, shoulders shaking, “i’m the funniest person i know.” 

and then yanan is all in his space, looking too much like a mischievous kitten and wooseok gulps, caught off guard so quickly. yanan leans forward, trapping him against the edge of the bench and places his lips against wooseok’s forehead. in that small amount of time the blond had loosened the hoodie strings, pulling the hood down and wooseok hadn’t even noticed. 

yanan’s warm hands cup his face and he kisses wooseok like he’s still apologizing, a brush of their lips that melts into something deeper.  when yanan bites wooseok’s plump bottom lip and pulls he shudders, tugging the blond strands in his grasp. the world around them falls away and time ceases to exist, just them, the moon and a park bench. 

yanan tastes like chocolate and something even sweeter, heavy on his tongue and the moan that leaves him unabashedly makes the older man pull away, looking surprised. 

“you taste like rum.” 

“it’s whiskey actually.” wooseok corrects, leaning closer for another kiss, pouting when he’s denied. “i’m not drunk i promise. you sobered me right up.” 

“it’s midnight.” yanan breathes, brushing his pink hair off of his forehead, kissing the spot right above his eyebrow. “c’mon i’ll walk you home.” 

“party pooper.” wooseok huffs, taking the hand that is offered to him, stumbling a bit as he stands up straight. 

“i just don’t want your friends to murder me if they find out i kidnapped you at 12 am and made out with you while you were under the influence.”

“hey! i came willingly. and they had a lot more to drink than i did.” he defends, “i didn’t want to get trashed just in case you finally called but you never did.” 

“i’m sorry.” yanan apologizes once again and wooseok shushes him loudly, doesn’t want to hear it anymore. 

“make it up to me?” 

“i’ll cook you dinner tomorrow?” the little stars on yanan’s cheeks are glowing pink and it’s the prettiest thing wooseok’s ever seen. 

“sounds like a deal.” 

they hook their pinkies together and wooseok’s shout echoes among the empty streets when yanan lifts him onto his back, holding him tight. he piggybacks him the rest of the way home and wooseok falls asleep, a thornless rose in the other man’s clutches. 

________

a few days later yanan stops by with chicken nuggets and a pet carrier, buttercup happily curled up inside. when wooseok asks how he got her, the smile on his face so big it hurts, yanan just winks, acting innocent. 

it’s his final apology. slightly to butter wooseok up so the other won’t have anything to hold against him but mostly just to see him giggle as buttercup crawls into his lap, nuzzling into his tummy. his hair goes vibrant and peachy, eyes illuminated with galaxies of his own. 

nothing else has ever shined so bright. 

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you enjoyed this 6k of wooseok having a big fat crush on yanan! i rushed it a lil bit so don't @@ me but i hope it was still a good read.


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